The Stories of Strangers

Here's one inscribed in the notebook back in Ottawa, October last year, whilst we were playing at Hungoose and Hamama. A beautiful entry from another anonymous muse:

"When I was in Panama I was tenting in a dudes yard. Every fucking morning this chicken with a fucked up voice would wake me up for a month. I chased it with a hammock to catch it... followed by a kick, didn't work, .. attached a dart to an umbrella... tossed it, missed it, whipped big rocks, missed. So one day I decided to put an end to my life of being a vegetarian of 13 years. Paid my friend to come over at 4:00 am. He killed the fucking chicken. I carried it down to a restaurant, told them to keep everything. I ate the legs that ran away from me for a month. It was some tasty fucking chicken.